The Force of Love
She could feel it. Feel it in the pit of her stomach, that tugging feeling that was connected to him. The Force drove through her like a tidal wave of realisation as the growing pain became unbearable as she felt it in her chest as he did in that same moment. Tears weren't good enough; not even a guttural moan or scream. All she could do was stare at a fixed point, focusing on that solidifying agony that was spreading through her, and this time it was mentally. She could only hang her head as her memories lead her to times they had shared, back when they were young and beautiful, without a care in the world. The beats of her heart seemed to die out like his did as the lightsaber had cut clean through him by the hand of their own son, and she could feel him falling, falling, lifeless, no longer moving.
Her husband, Han Solo.
Whom she loved so dearly and so much and yet hadn't told him in a while, since their son had devastatingly turned to the Dark Side by what seemed to be both of their faults, and had caused pressure to their marriage. They had had a break, Han had gone off with Chewie to do what he did best, she was left there as the Resistance's general. And he had finally returned with his old ship, the Millennium Falcon. She had been relieved to see him, yet he didn't think she would want to see him again, which definitely wasn't true. He had told her himself that when she looked into his eyes, she saw the son they had lost, but it didn't stop her from watching him anyway. Even when they were planning the attack on the Imperial Death Star - or whatever it was called - she couldn't stop looking at him as he spoke his familiar words of tactics and plans. From then on, she had become worried for her husband, as he told her she wouldn't have liked what he was doing. Now, it definitely seemed that way. It was all too much to bear. One second he was there and they were tied, a bond stronger than the Force in which they called love. The next, they were torn from a lifetime's worth of it. It was, of course, what had caused Anakin Skywalker to turn himself. Leia was so glad they hadn't departed bitterly, or out of civility. They had expressed their despairs and their understanding of one another, while looking into each other's eyes and still thinking the other beautiful, despite their greying hair and wrinkled faces.
She had told him she had missed him, yet she could tell he knew that 'missed' was an understatement. He had told her the same in return, and wrapped her up in an embrace that she could finally feel safe in, despite knowing what allowing him to do this could mean. And like a fool, she had let him. His hands stroked her hair and she had closed her eyes, praying he would be alright and persuade their son to come back home.
And now he had been ripped away from her, like the Force itself was splitting her in two and the other half of her was down there with him, still falling. She reminisced the first time she had met him, when she had rescued him from the carbonite, when they had fought together in the rebellion. Leia wished to step back into those youthful times and interact once more with the handsome, flirty stranger she had met all those years ago. She shed tears, thinking about them all. She wished she had kissed him, even if it was for the last time, just before he went away in his ship like he always did. She wished she had kissed him there and then like he had kissed her all those moons ago. And Leia wished, with all her heart, she had looked him in his still vibrant eyes to tell him.
'I love you.'
And with a heartbroken smile she knew what he would have said in return, as he smiled and stroked her lined face.
'I know.'